Amor Omnia Vincit
by Permanent Rose
Summary: We all know about the Volturi, the ancient vampire monarchy, the rule enforcers of the undead. But how did this group come together? How did these ancient beings come to be? A story of passion, love, and betrayal.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello everyone. I don't believe that the Volturi get enough attention. Its always all about the Cullens, so I decided I needed to write the story of the Volturi.

I created a character to narrate my story. It is a female vampire named Julia, whom I made the sister of Marcus of the Volturi. It mentions that the Volturi began with Aro, Caius, Marcus, and two females, though, if I am correct, are never named.

My story begins in the modern world, but the bulk of the story is a flashback. My dates are a bit off. The Volturi are not quite as old as they should be, but that is the fantastic thing about fan fiction: you can write whatever you want!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing this.

Disclaimer: I owe it all to Stephenie Meyer

_Chapter I_

**A.D. 2007**

The rain sleets endlessly against my grimy classroom windows. Distantly, thunder rumbles. I can acutely feel my class's excitement, causing a slight buzz to fill my head, making it impossible to fully concentrate. The rain begins to come down harder, the flashes of lightning and roar of thunder become more frequent.

On the chalkboard, I write out the three principle parts of the verb 'to work'. _laboro, laborare, laboravi. _

"Alex, can you conjugate this verb so it translates to 'He had worked'?" I ask.

"Uh," Alex chews thoughtfully on the end of his pencil. I can tell he'd rather be doing anything than conjugating verbs. "labora—laboravit—no laborabat?" he tries without much effort.

Next to him, Thomas raises his hand enthusiastically. I ignore him for the time being.

"'He had worked' is in the pluperfect tense. Remember the trick I taught you to remember the pluperfect tense endings?" I urge.

"Magistra, it's Friday," Alex complains.

I sigh, knowing it's not worth an argument. "Thomas, will you answer?"

"laboraverat," Thomas answers confidently, flashing me a smile.

"That's right, Thomas," I say, then to the rest of my Latin class. "Let's get to work on finishing the worksheet I handed out. Any unfinished work is homework."

With the exception of a few students, everyone groans.

"But you never give homework on Fridays, Magistra!" Alex blurts.

I try to keep my strict teacher façade, but I crack.

"I'm just kidding with you guys," I say with a smile. "Truth be told, I'm not really in the mood to conjugate verbs either. You may have the rest of period to talk _quietly _amongst yourselves." I am much too easy on these kids.

I hear a few whoops and a few students say, 'Multas gratias, Magistra'.

"Just don't get too loud," I warn with a smile. They are good kids, some of the best I have had in all my years of teaching.

I sit at my desk, more or less pretending to be checking my stack of un-graded worksheets. Listening to the children's conversations is what I'm really doing. My acute sense of hearing can pick up things that an average human cannot hear.

Jenny, Lisa, and Tina are talking about their plans for the weekend. All three of them are athletic girls, and their plans include a run on some of the trails in the woods.

"I just hope this dreadful rain stops," says Jenny, looking out at the downpour. I can feel her hoping, and I find myself wishing for a sunny weekend for them.

The other two nod in agreement and the topic soon changes to yesterday's track meet.

I can only assume that Alex and Jason are talking about video games.

"—and level forty-two with the decapitated robotic mummy. Oh man, it's literally impossible to slay! I've tried everything from the flaming bow and arrow to the sulfur flinger!" Alex says enthusiastically. The excitement he feels rushes through my veins. It takes me a moment to calm myself down.

"I haven't even made it past level forty yet," Jason admits. "I can't get past the lava snake."

Alex launches into an explanation on how to kill the lava snake, and I advert my attention to Mira. Mira is always shy and quiet. She is extremely tall and thin and her face is covered in acne. She has beautiful, long black hair, which she usually uses to cover her face. She is easily one of my smartest students. Her emotions are the hardest for me to feel. Its like she's shut herself up so tight and built a wall that no one can break through.

Mira is not talking to anyone, which is common for her. Instead, she concentrates on the verb conjugation worksheet that I handed out. Under her breath, I can hear her reciting the tense endings in a rhythmic whisper. "_-o, -s, -t, -mus, -tis, -nt, -bam, -bas, -bat, -bamus…"_

Alissa and Harper talk about their usual: fashion and boys. Harper describes in detail the dress she is planning to where to her aunt's wedding. Alissa is staring dreamily at Thomas.

"Isn't he just gorgeous," she sighs, not appearing to have heard word Harper said.

"Girl, either you've got to get over him or get the guts to ask him out," Harper says, not hurt at all by her friend's lack of attention.

"Well seeing that I obviously can't get over him, I guess I should ask him out," she glances over at Thomas again. "But he doesn't even seem remotely interested in me." She lets out a heavy sigh, and I can sense her disappointment, the emotion that I hate most to feel.

Alissa is right. Thomas is not even at all slightly interested in her. He is, in fact, infatuated with another girl. That other girl happens to be me.

At the end of every class, he informs Kyle of at least one of my seemingly flawless attributes. Today it is my hair.

"I've never seen any hair as gorgeous as hers," as he turns to glance at me, I swiftly look away. His endless fascination with me does not bother me as much as it used to. I suppose I am growing accustomed to it. "Its almost down to her waist and perfectly straight. No girl with hair that long can keep it that nice. Look at Mira."

They both turn to look at Mira, who is still absorbed in her verb conjugating. She appears not have brushed her hair today. Kyle and Thomas snicker. Sometimes my heart just aches for poor Mira.

"Anyway," Thomas continues, "Magistra's hair is also such a beautiful color. Its like chocolate mixed with a bit of red. See how the red glitters in the sunlight?"

"Thomas, it's raining," Kyle informs him.

Thomas continues as though uninterrupted. "Her hair looks so beautiful against her porcelain skin, and it enhances her eyes, especially on the days that they are caramel colored."

This is the fact that disturbs me most about Thomas's infatuation. My eyes, depending on how recently I have last hunted, change from tranquil topaz to livid black. It is slightly unsettling that he is keen enough to pick up the change.

"They are almost black today," Thomas says. "I can't figure out why they change. It must be some sort of colored contacts.

"She can't be that much older than us, can she Kyle?" he continues. "I mean look at her! She doesn't look any older than twenty."

I smile to myself. If only he knew how old I truly was.

"Do you think she has a boyfriend?" Thomas brings up the common debate.

"With her looks, I'd be surprised if she didn't," says Kyle.

Thomas sighs, "Your probably right."

He spends the rest of the period staring at me, sending intense vibes of adoration in my direction. It takes every ounce of my concentration to block them out. I end up getting nothing done the entire period. I am relieved when the bell finally rings.

"valete, discipuli!" I call as my class rushes out the door, free from the binds of school for two glorious days. "Have a nice weekend."

Thomas is the only one who wishes me a nice weekend back.

I pack up my bag and head for the exit. I step into the downpour, wishing I had brought an umbrella. I pass Madeline Bennett, the sixth grade choir teacher, on my way to my car. The rain mingles with her strong perfume and sweet body odor, reminding me that it has been awhile since I had last hunted. I mentally add that to my to do list.

"Have a nice weekend, Julia!" she calls in my direction. Her excitement courses through me.

"And the same to you, Madeline," I call back, smiling in spite of myself.

I slide gracefully into the front seat of my sleek black Volvo, easily the most expensive car in the parking lot. As much as I hate drawing attention to myself, I can't resist the magnificent car. My kind is drawn to beauty, so it is hard for us to accept anything less than that.

I pull into the parking lot of my apartment building. More than anything, I want to buy a house, but I know that when the time comes for me to move, it will be much easier to move out of a rented apartment than trying to sell a house.

The rain is still coming down in heavy sheets as I dash toward the apartment building. I open the front door, the rain dripping off my cold skin. I pick up my mail before proceeding to my room.

I open the door to my small apartment. All of my familiar belongings welcome me. Although I have only lived here for a year, I know that I have four, or five, at the most, before I will have to pack my bags and relocate again. I sigh, deciding not to think of that now.

I glance out the window to see if the rain has yet subsided, but it has not. If anything, it is coming down harder. Oh well. I'll just have to do my hunting trip in the rain.

I pull on a pair of old jeans and t-shirt, and replace my stiletto heals with a pair of well-worn sneakers. I make my way out a nearby park, knowing I must look pretty awkward taking a stroll in the heavy rain.

I find my usual path. Once in the woods, I let my animal instincts take over. I run at a swift, inhuman speed, dodging trees and other things that lay in my path. I quickly pick up the scent of a deer that had been drinking by the stream not too long ago. The deer is not hard to find, and I seize its slender form before it even has time to react. I sink my teeth deeply into its neck, quickly killing it, and begin to drain its blood. I immediately feel energized and swiftly kill two more deer before returning home.

I ignore the stares, pretending as though I have merely forgotten my umbrella, as I make my back my apartment. I take a long shower, washing any traces of dirt and blood away, while trying ineffectively to penetrate the warmth into my freezing skin.

As I shower, I think about poor Mira and how badly I want to reach out to her. The only problem is, I have no idea how. She is so mysterious, so withdrawn, so unreachable.

I sigh as I step out of the shower. I dress in my flannel pajamas, not planning to leave the house for the night. I know that pajamas are useless to me, considering my inability to sleep, but I can never resist the softness and comfort of them. And since I am going to remain in the house all night, I'd rather wear something comfortable than my stiff everyday clothing.

I take a brush to my long brown hair, then make my way to the small living room. I pick up the pile of mail I neglected to look at previously and collapse contently onto my favorite recliner.

I begin to page through the stack of mail. Bills, bills, bills, magazine, more bills…what is this? I stop at a small, cream-colored envelope.

I stare at the envelope I hold in my hand. If my heart had been beating, it would've stopped right now, for my name is written across the front of the envelope in an elegant yet familiar script.

_Iulia Argentaria_

It is in my brother's hand.

* * *

­­­­­­­­­­­­­For those who are interested, Latin meanings and connections for this chapter:

Magistra—this is actually a made up Latin word that comes from the Latin word _magister, _which translates as _teacher_ (literally _male teacher_). Since there were no female teachers in ancient Rome, there is no female form of this word. Following the same pattern as similarly spelled nouns, _Magistra _was formed as a title commonly used for female Latin teachers (this could be compared to Senor or Senora in Spanish classes)

Multas gratias- (literally _much thanks_) thank you very much

Valete discipuli—goodbye students


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry if my Latin explanations bother you, but I am completely obessed with the language

Please take the time to review. It really helps to know what you think.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Stephenie Meyer.

_Chapter II_

I gape at the envelope, unable to open it. I trace my name with my pointer finger. He has used my Latin name, a name I haven't used in years, nearly three hundred years to be exact.

The envelope is made of thick creamy parchment. I recognise my brother's seal, a snake entwined with a dagger, pressed into the crimson wax. I carefully break it and pull out a letter written on the same paper that the envelope is made of. I hold my breath as I read the words.

_My dearest Iulia,_

_How long it has been since I have last seen you! Not a day goes by that I don't think of you and ponder what has become of your life. I have started countless letters, but my pride has kept me from finishing them._

_I hope this letter finds you well. I miss you terribly as does Aro. It's been particularly painful to watch him brood about for the past 300 years._

_I confess, I do not write to wish you well. I have a matter I wish to confront you with. I presume you remember Carlisle? I have been informed that you no longer keep in contact with him, but he was the one who finalized your decision to leave us._

_Carlisle has formed quite a unique coven. None of them will feed on human blood, and they live among humans, pretending to be mortal. Just a few months ago, a member of his coven, a boy called Edward, appeared in our courts wishing to be killed. We refused him, but asked him to join the Volturi, for he has the unique ability to read minds._

_He refused our invitation, and threatened to expose us. But just before he went through with his plans, an odd occurrence happened: his mate came to save him. The odd thing was not her courage, but the fact that she was only a mere human, whom Edward refused to change. _

_Caius wanted to kill her then, but Aro wanted her changed and for her to join the Volturi, for she exhibits potential: her mind cannot be touched. Aro cannot see her history, little Jane cannot inflict her powers on her, and Edward cannot read her mind. _

_Their relationship is intense, possibly one of the most intense I have ever come across. It seems their very essence depends on each other, and without one another, the may likely perish. I cannot fathom how Edward can keep her human._

_Another member from Carlisle's coven was also present: a little pixie like girl called Alice who can see events that are to come. She informed Aro that she saw the girl being changed in the future. I am not entirely sure I believe her. If only you had been there, you would've been able to sense her sincerity._

_Aro permitted them to leave only after they promised that the girl would be changed in the near future, or else her death would follow, for she knows too much of our kind than any mortal should. _

_Even since their departure, Aro and Caius have been fighting like 'cats and dogs', for lack of a better term. I fear this might be the end of our sturdy reign if it continues this way. Aro is threatening to throw Caius out, and there is no telling what Caius will do if Aro goes through with it. _

_My sweet sister, you are the only who has ever been able to persuade Aro to do anything. I am asking you to return to Volterra, even if it is only temporarily. I would not ask you to come if it was not a matter I found to be of great importance. Please let me know if you will return._

_Iulia, I love you so, and I'm sorry it had come to this to finally give me a reason to write. I hope that we will see each other soon. _

_With all my heart,_

_Marcus_

I have to read the letter three times before I 1) believe that my brother has finally contacted me after all these years, 2) fully comprehend its contents, and 3) realize it is written entirely in Latin.

I cannot focus on its contents. I can only think about my dear brother and how I've missed him so. It has been much to long since I have last seen him.

And before I realize it, my mind is plunging into a deep memory, a memory I did not realize I even remembered.

Suddenly, I am not longer sitting my cozy living room. Instead, I have taken myself back to Ostia, Italy, to a time nearly 2000 years ago.

* * *

Latin meanings and connections:

Iulia (Julia's Latin name)—In the ancient Latin language, there was no letter 'J' in their alphabet. Instead, an 'I' was used. Her name would be pronounced as '_Youlia'_

Argentaria (Iulia's _cognomen) _in Roman names, the _cognomen _was a name passed down through the generations of the family, usually describing a specific attribute. _Argentaria (_masculine form-_argentarius_)--translates as banker. Iulia's father was banker, and since the girls in Roman families get the feminized form of their father's name, her full name is Iulia Argentaria


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So the flashback begins...

Remember, reviews equal my happiness :)

Disclaimer: You know, these really do get bothersome.

_Chapter III_

**About A.D. 83**

"Hadassah, what are you doing?" I stood on my tiptoes to see the top of the table.

"I'm making for you a lunch, sweet," our plump Jewish cook told me, pushing a stool in my direction so I could see.

"What are you making?" I asked, once situated on the stool.

"I use the lemon chicken from your dinner last night to make a soup. And some seasoned vegetable," she said, turning to stir the soup.

"Ew," I wrinkled my nose. "I _hate _vegetables."

"Well you best like them, little mistress, or there is being no stuffed dates," Hadassah told me with a smile.

"You made stuffed dates?" I asked excitedly. "I will eat all the vegetables in the world so I can eat stuffed dates!"

"I was thinking so," said Hadassah. "Now run along and go play in the _hortus _until I am finishing your lunch."

I turned to leave, but then stopped. "Hadassah, do you know where my brother is?"

Hadassah sighed, "I am not being able to know the whereabouts of your crazy brother. That child is being anywhere and everywhere at one time."

I picked up my rag doll, Pulchra, and headed for the _hortus. _

"Marcus!" I called, thinking that might have been hiding among columns the _peristylum. _

No answer. I sighed. I simply adored Marcus. I spent the better half of my youth dressing like a boy and trying to imitate Marcus in every way. Marcus, in turn, was the classic older brother. He loved to tell me fantastic stories that were meant to scare or impress me. He just loved the horrified look I got on my face. He sometimes abused his power over me, and would get in trouble when I would wake I the middle of the night from a bad dream.

I sat down on the sun-warmed path that snaked through the _hortus. _My mother loved flowers so it was filled with roses, marigolds, and flowers of every sort of shape and color. I played with Pulchra, making her dance to a little song I had made up.

Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned abruptly with a yelp to see Marcus grinning behind me.

"Marcus!" I exclaimed. "You scared me! I didn't know you were here." He had a habit of sneaking up on me when I least expected it. I should've realized that he'd tricked me by not replying to my calls.

He continued to grin, pleased with himself as always. His eyes danced excitedly, and I knew at once that he had a story for me.

I placed Pulchra on the ground beside and turned to face him, anticipating yet dreading his tale.

"I have a story to tell you," he began. "It's a true story, but I'm not sure if you're old enough to hear it. It's a frightening one."

"Marcus!" I exclaimed. "I'm seven years old! I'm not a baby!"

"Alright. If you insist," he warned.

"I insist."

He situated himself on the ground beside me. He began in a loud whisper.

"I am going to tell you of," here he paused dramatically. I leaned in closer, "the _viri sanguinum._"

"The men of blood?" I whispered back, picking up Pulchra and hugging her to my chest. "Why are they called that?"

"Because," Marcus continued, "They feed on the blood of humans."

I stared at him, completely horrified.

"They hunt at night, ravaging entire villages, slaughtering every human with one deadly weapon." He stopped to survey to effects of his story. My stunned reaction pleased him.

"What was that weapon?" I finally whispered.

"Their teeth," Marcus grinned, flashing his own. "Their teeth are so strong they can rip the flesh right off a human. The have more strength than ten of the strongest men put together and their skin is as hard as rock. I've heard that a dagger can't even penetrate through their skin."

I shuttered, trying to imagine such creatures.

"But there is something else, something startling about these sadistic killers. They are immortal. Nothing can kill them, not illness, no weapon, not even time can take their lives. They are also inhumanly beautiful. Just one look at them, and you are entranced by their beauty."

"They sound like the gods," I said in awe.

"In a way," replied Marcus. "But the _viri sanguinum _are much, much crueler."

I thought of all the myths about the vengeance of the gods. It was hard to image anything crueler. "You're joking. There are really no such creatures as the _viri sanguinum._"

"Maybe, maybe not," Marcus said in the most irritating way. "I've heard there is a coven of them living right out of Ostia, waiting to terrorize homes in the dead of night."

As much as I did not want to believe him, a wave of terror involuntarily coursed through my body.

"Children!" Hadassah's voice called from the house. "Lunch!"

I gathered Pulchra in my arms and hurried into the _culina, _forgetting about my fear and instead thinking about stuffed dates.

* * *

Latin meanings and connections:

Ostia is one of the port cities in Rome, so it is on the coast. It is located southwest of the city of Rome.

Hortus—garden

Peristylum—colonnade that typically surrounded the garden

Culina—kitchen

Since the Romans did not have sugar (I don't know how they lived!) they would enjoy cakes sweetened with honey and a variety of fruits for desserts. Stuffed dates were a common treat enjoyed in ancient Rome. For Iulia, having stuffed dates with her lunch would be like us having a brownie.

So how about that? Who knew you'd be learning some Latin today? :)


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I want to thank Lady Clark-Weasley of Books and Athena for your lovely reviews. Your support is greatly appreciated.

Disclaimer: I owe to to Stephenie Meyer.

_Chapter IV_

After I finished eating, I crept down the hallway of my mother's chamber to see if she was awake. My mother was a sickly woman who often spent the days in bed, too weak to go about her normal life.

As I entered her room, I say that she was not sleeping. She lay on her side, a rose in her hand, plucking off the petals one by one.

"Mater!" I cried, rushing to her bed.

"My little Iulia," said my mother. She dropped the rose then sat up, opening her arms. I eagerly climbed into them and buried my face in her chest. The repercussions of Marcus's story were beginning to take effect.

"Whatever is the matter, darling?" my mother began to stroke my hair.

"Marcus told me the most dreadful story about men who drink the blood of humans." I shuttered just recollecting it.

"That boy has quite an imagination," my mother replied. "I can assure you, there are no such creatures, my little Iulia."

Her words comforted me. Neither of us spoke for a moment.

"You're hair is all tangled," my mother broke the silence. "Would you like me to braid it for you?"

I nodded. She hummed a familiar song as her fingers skillfully twisted my hair.

"Now turn and look at me."

She examined her handiwork. She tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear. "There. You look gorgeous, my little Iulia. When you grow older, you will be the heartthrob of men."

I blushed, for my mother spoke the truth. Even at the young age of seven, I was quite beautiful. I had porcelain skin, long, thick hair, and bright red lips that looked striking on a girl as young as I. I was tall for my age, and slender. I had been told many a time I would grow up to be a beauty.

I crawled back into my mother's lap and put my arms around her neck.

"I love you, my little Iulia," my mother whispered into my ear.

"I love you too, Mater." I whispered back.

I snuggled up against her form, not noticing her slightly rounded belly. Not knowing the terrible things that were soon to come.

* * *

I found out about my mother's pregnancy about a month later. Like any little girl, I thrilled at the idea of having a new baby in the house. My excitement consumed me as I watched her belly grow and felt the little baby kicking in her womb. I was so enthralled with these little wonders that I hardly noticed my mother's illness increasing. She began to vomit frequently and would come down with high fevers.

I can recall the night quite clearly when I awoke to screams coming from my mother's chamber. I crept down the hallway to see what was amiss. I stopped in the doorway, for right in front of me I saw two hunched over forms, whispering fervently to one another. My father and Fidelis, our most trusted slave.

"—hurry and find Petro," was all I heard from my father. I slunk into the shadows as Fidelis hurried off. My father reentered my mother's chamber.

I wave of worry overcame me as I continued to crouch in my hiding place. Petro was a Greek doctor, the finest in all of Ostia, according to my father. Why would he be sending for him now? Something must have been terribly wrong.

Petro arrived not even a quarter of an hour later, but even then he was too late. The labor had begun much to early, Petro told us. The birth had been much too difficult and the baby much too small. Neither my mother nor the baby made it.

The news broke my father completely, for he had loved my mother dearly. Once a respectable banker, his life slowly began to deteriorate until he became the lowest of sorts, a gambler and a drunk.

Even without his income, we were still well to do, for in our storehouse rested a fortune my father had inherited form his father along with the profit he had made as a banker. Still, the saved money was decreasing at a rapid pace. My father put no restraint to his pleasures, and soon it was necessary for my father to dismiss all our slaves and servants, with the exception of a few. Hadassah was permitted to stay, solely for purpose of caring for Marcus and me. A few male slaves remained to care for the garden and the estate.

Marcus turned stringent and cold after our mother's death. He told me no more tales and stories. His mischievous and humorous personality disappeared. In fact, it was rare he spoke at all.

I took my mother's death in entirely different manor than my brother. Instead of wallowing in my self-pity, I used my anguish to help others in need. I soon learned the names of all the beggars. I gave scraps of bread and leftover meat to all of the hungry children who lived on the streets. I confided in Claudius, the lame and blind man who begged outside the baths. I would listen to him tell me of the miseries of his life, and in turn, he would listen to my own sorrows. I became friends with Leda, the old Greek soothsayer who owned many cats. Even the dogs grew to love me, coming for scraps of food and affection whenever they saw me out on the streets.

By watching the suffering of others, it seemed to make my own troubles seem less important, though they only continued to increase. My father continued to rapidly spent our precious money, my brother existed in a zombie like mode, never speaking unless it was necessary, and I remained without anyone to turn to as I watched my entire life begin to fall apart.

Latin meanings and connections:

Mater-mother

Fidelis (name of the slave)-faithful

Claudius (name of the beggar)-lame


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry I haven't updated in a bit. I've been soooooo busy.

Anyway, for those of you who like long chapters, this one is longer than my previous ones.

Reviews are greatly appreciated!

_Chapter V_

**Eight Years Later**

The summer night buzzed with the lively song of crickets. I was unable to sleep due to the intense heat and humidity of the summer air. I sprawled out across my bed, my damp bed linens in a heap at the foot of the bed. My hair clung to my sweaty forehead. I tried ineffectively to pull my long hair away from my body, but the unbearable heat only persisted.

I turned my gaze out the window. Millions of stars dotted the dark summer sky. I tried to pick out the familiar constellations, but I could not clearly see the sky through my slanted window.

I rose from my bed, unable to stand the heat any longer. My sleeping tunic was so damp that I felt as though I had walked through a mist. The stone floor of my bedroom felt cool on my feet. I was tempted to lie down on the floor and press my flushed cheeks against the cold stone.

The night was perfectly still with the exception of the hum of insects. It felt as though the entire world was holding its breath, and I was the only breathing.

My eyes were heavy with sleepiness, but I was too hot to crawl back into my confining bed. Instead, I sat on the cool floor and leaned back against the base of my bed, waiting for the endless night to be over.

I had almost drifted off when I heard a noise from down the hall. I jerked up, slightly dazed from tiredness, and tried to reason what the noise might have been. My first thought was my father. He often stumbled into the house at ungodly hours in the morning. But then I realised it was coming from the wrong direction. The noise had come from Marcus's room.

I was on my feet in a flash. I hurried down to Marcus's room as quietly as I could. Not wanting to startle him, I stopped in the doorway. Moonlight streamed through the window of his room, giving me plenty of light by which I could easily see him.

He appeared to packing a bag. A pile of his possessions lay on his bed. He was trying to fit everything in small knapsack. It looked as though Marcus intended to leave.

I bolted into his room, forgetting that I had intended not to startle him.

"Marcus!" I exclaimed, running up to him.

He cursed, looking up in shock. "Iulia!"

"Marcus, what do you think you're doing?" He had finished shoving all his belongings into his bag. As he slung it over his shoulder, I felt involuntary tears begin to fill my eyes.

"Iulia, sweet Iulia," he tried, taking my hands in his. "You mustn't cry."

"I can't help it," I choked out the words. Hot tears now streamed down my face. "Why are you leaving?"

"Iulia, you must try to understand. I cannot bear to stay here any longer. I cannot watch Pater throw away his life then use me to fix his mistakes. Surely you know that intends for me to marry Octavia?"

Octavia, I knew, was the rich daughter of a senator, whom my father was friendly with. He was trying to marry off his beautiful thirteen-year-old daughter. With the marriage would come a large dowry that would help my father pay his debts.

I nodded in answer to Marcus's question. "But why not marry her? Where else will you find someone as fine as her?"

Marcus emitted a noise that sounded somewhat like a growl. "It would be submitting to Pater's weakness, approving of what his life had become. I will not stoop down to that. I have no desire to wed Octavia. She is but a child in my mind. She—"

I cut him off. "But where will you go? What other option do you have?" I furiously wiped my tears away.

"I shall join the Roman Legion," Marcus said simply.

I gasped. "No, Marcus! You'll get killed!"

"Sweet Iulia," he tried to calm me. "It is a chance I am willing to take. I'm ready to live my own life, not a stifled one my father planned for me."

I understood his motives and reasoning, but that didn't make me want to accept them. I only cried harder as I stood there, unable to sway his decision.

"Iulia," Marcus walked over to me and enveloped me in a hug. "I promise this won't be the last time I see you. I'll write to you as often as I can. Please try to understand."

I nodded through my tears. "I'll miss you so much, Marcus."

"And I will miss you too, sweet Iulia," he said. "Whatever you do, don't let Pater make your decisions for you. Life the life you were meant to live."

As he pulled away, he placed a few pouches of coins in my hands. "What's this?" I asked.

"In case you ever need to run away, I want you to do it properly." A small smile danced on his lips as he said the words.

I returned the smile through my tears, graciously accepting the money.

"Good luck, Marcus," I whispered as he headed for the door.

"And the same to you, Iulia," he replied. "I hope I will see you soon."

And then he was gone, another piece torn from my life.

* * *

There was no chance of sleep claiming me now. I returned to my room, and buried my face in my pillow, my tears falling freely.

Somewhere around dawn, I decided I could no longer bear it. I dressed in a simple tunic and silently left the house, and headed toward the _forum._

The _forum _was not far from our house. By the light of the rising sun, I could see merchants and peddlers setting up their stalls to begin the day's work. I headed toward the ocean, sitting down on the edge of one of the docks. The salty ocean breeze was comforting. It was a smell I had grown up with, a smell that made me feel safe. I gazed out toward the ocean, remembering all the times Marcus and I had gone swimming together. The memory hurt more than I expected. Even though he had just left, the thought of returning home to no Marcus was unbearable. I began to cry again.

I do not know how long I sat there rocking and sobbing, and I do not know how long I would've continued to do so, for I was disturbed by a soft voice.

"Are you alright, miss?" the voice belong to a male with a strong Jewish accent. I turned abruptly, almost slipping into the water.

The man caught my arm and steadied me. "I'm sorry," he said.

I wiped my tears. "There is no need for you to be sorry."

We walked away from the dock, neither of us speaking for a moment.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" the young man asked.

"No…no there is not," I replied, suddenly wanting to spill my heart to this kind man. "Its just that my brother's recently gone off to the army." The tears began to spill again.

"The army is hell," was all he said. "I'm sorry. That's probably not helping the circumstances," he apologised.

I wished there was some way I could convince Marcus to come back.

"I'm sorry, I haven't introduced myself," the young man apologised. "I am Aaron ben Mordecai."

I returned the greeting. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Aaron. I am Iulia Argentaria."

"Daughter of a banker then?" he asked.

"A former banker," I said, leaving it at that.

"So what brings you to Ostia?" I asked.

"Business, if you could call it that. I sell little figurines I make from clay. It's my excuse to go out and see the world."

We had now approached his stall. I noticed the rows of little clay figures, sculpted with amazing precision and detail.

"Wow," I breathed, examining the tiny models. There was a small section dedicated to Roman emperors. I smiled as I looked at the tiny busts of Nero, Vespasian, and Titus. But most of them were just common people doing everyday things. A mother nursing her baby, a little girl bending over to pick a flower, two little boys chasing each other.

"These are spectacular," I exclaimed, picking up one of a man and a woman in a gentle embrace.

"Thank you," he said.

"How do you make them so precise?" I asked in awe.

"Well," he admitted. "I don't sculpt them all from memory. On day that business is slow, I sit by my stall and sketch scenes from everyday life."

It was then that I noticed a thick book filled with sheets of papyrus sitting by his stall. "May I look?" I asked.

He blushed slightly, but nodded. When I open the book, I gasped. The first picture was of a young woman sitting by the edge of the water, crying softly. There was no doubt that it was I.

I could not be angry at him for sketching me in my distraught state, for the sketch itself was so accurate and beautiful that I forgot to be mad. I flipped through his other sketches, noticing that most of them were of beautiful women.

"I hope you don't mind me sketching you," Aaron said, still blushing.

"Not at all. Your pictures are gorgeous," I replied.

"Thank you," he said, the blushed deepening.

I noticed that the _forum_ had grown crowded as people began to shop for the day. I suddenly realized how late it had gotten. Poor Hadassah would be sick with worry to find both Marcus and me gone.

"I've got to go," I said suddenly.

"It was nice meeting you, Iulia," Aaron said.

"The same to you," I responded. "Will you be in Ostia long?" I asked hopefully.

"I plan to stay for summer," he said.

About two months then. I smiled in spite of myself.

"Then I suppose I shall be seeing you again," I told him as I began to walk back toward my home.

"I do hope so," he called. "I come to the _forum _nearly everyday."

"Until then!" I called back, feeling the first bit of joy I had felt in nearly eight years.

* * *

Latin meanings and connections:

Pater-father

Forum-market place/town centre

It was not uncommon for girls as young as twelve or thirteen to be married. Since the life expectancy was so much shorter, the Roman's started their families at much younger ages. Many marriages were arranged for convenience and money.

* * *

A/N: I was debating whether or not to change the title. I think the Latin may be turning people off. What do you think?


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Yes, I have decided to resurrect this story from the dead, and I've decided to change the title back to its original Latin.

I don't like this chapter very much. Basically, it's just sort of a transition chapter to get the story moving. Hopefully the chapters to come will be more interesting.

I'm dedicating this chapter (heck, make it this entire story) to JennaLynne. Without her, I wouldn't have even considered finishing this story. Thanks a ton, girl :)

_Chapter VI_

"Where have you been, child?" Hadassah scolded me as I entered the kitchen. "You were scaring me half to death! You and that brother of yours, both not being in your beds. Such a fright!"

"Calm down, Hadassah. I'm fine. I just went for a walk down by the docks," I told her.

"And your brother?"

I hesitated. The events from last nigh replayed in my mind. My voice was thick with tears as I answered. "He's gone. Gone off to join the Roman Legion."

Hadassah gasped. "He didn't!"

I nodded as tears began to pour down my cheeks.

"It's being because of that father of yours…Marcus heard about the marriage, didn't he?" Hadassah said, shaking with anger.

I nodded again.

"Serves your father right…all that gambling…I'm hoping dear Marcus will be all right." Hadassah muttered.

"He promised to write," I sniffled.

"He'll be home before you know it," Hadassah assured me. "Just you wait. After a few months, he'll be home, begging your father to let him marry that pretty little girl."

I hoped she was right.

"Now why don't you eat something?" Hadassah said. Food was her cure for everything. "There's some fresh bread out on the table—Now stop your worrying. Everything is will turn out right."

* * *

I woke up early the next morning, just so I could go see Aaron again. I grabbed a piece of bread from the kitchen, and slipped quietly into Hadassah's bedroom. She always worried too much. Marcus and I were like children to her. I remembered once when I was about five years old, I had asked Hadassah why she didn't have any children of her own.

"I have children once," she told me. "Back in Jerusalem. But the slave trader separate us. I never see them since."

It made me sad to think of Hadassah's children. I wondered what had become of them.

"Hadassah," I hissed, shaking her awake as gently as possible.

She groaned, mumbling something in Hebrew.

"Hadassah," I whispered again, louder this time.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she saw me standing above her, panic settling in, because I never disturbed her this early unless it was an emergency. "Sweet, is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, Hadassah," I reassured her. "I just wanted to tell you I was going to the _forum. _Do you need anything while I'm there?"

A sly smile crossed her face. "No, I am not needing anything right now, but you can tell that boy of yours I say hello."

My jaw dropped open. I was too shocked to even deny it. "How did you know?"

"Old Hadassah is not as senile as you think…" she winked at me. "Now hurry along. You don't want to keep the young man waiting…"

* * *

I hurried to the _forum _in spite of myself and found Aaron setting up his stall in the same spot as the previous day.

"Would you like some help?"

He turned around abruptly, surprised at first, but his face settled into a pleasant smile once his eyes caught mine.

"Salve, Iulia," he greeted, his accent making the familiar words sound exotic. "I'm nearly finished setting up, but you could place these figurines over there if you'd like." He handed me a box of delicately wrapped figurines.

I began to place them upright, marveling at the intricate detail placed into each one. I stopped short as I picked up a likeness of a young girl. It was me, the same position he had drawn me yesterday, now molded into a delicate clay piece.

He was blushing again. "I made it last night. You make a very good model."

It was my turn to blush. "Oh," I said dumbly, then mustered up a considerable amount of confidence. "Shall I model more?" I struck a pose, angling my hands on my hips, and thrusting my chest out in a suggestive manner.

Aaron laughed, a deep, musical laugh that made my heart skip a beat. "I might have to take you up on that."

He stepped forward and gently brushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I shivered slightly, savoring his soft touch, suddenly wishing he wouldn't take his hand away.

"What is Jerusalem like?" I found myself asking him.

"What makes you think I'm from Jerusalem?" I blushed furiously as he said the words.

"I'm, s-sorry," I stuttered. "I just assumed…."

He chuckled. I could tell he was not the least bit angry. "Don't worry. A lot of people assume it. I'm actually from Alexandria."

I marveled at his words. Alexandria. In Egypt. The furthest I had ever been away from home was a two day trip to Rome.

"Well, then, let me rephrase my question: What is Alexandria like?" I asked, attempting to hide my embarrassment.

Aaron smiled. "Hmmm…I think I could easily sum it up in one word: riotous. You can't go out on the streets without witnessing a brawl—between the Jews and Egyptians, the Egyptians and Greeks, the Greeks and Jews…I think Alexandria is one of the only places where you Romans haven't been able to effectively spread your influence."

"True, though I've heard some of the best scholars and technological advances come from Alexandria," I pointed out.

"I suppose you're right…" he mused. "It is a wonder that anything gets done there at all."

"Is your family still home in Alexandria?" I found myself asking before realizing it might be another question I might regret asking.

He face sunk slightly, and I was afraid I _had _crossed the line once again. "Yes, I do—my mother, father, grandmother, and my three sisters. I miss them."

"I can only imagine," I hesitantly placed my hand on his shoulder. "Marcus—my brother, has only been gone one day and I already miss him terribly."

He took my hand in his, rubbing it gently, and even as I spoke, he didn't pull it away.

"How old are your sisters?"

He smiled slightly, but a hint of sadness remained. I could tell he loved his sisters dearly. "Anah is eighteen. She's due to have her first baby any day now—I cannot wait to see her child when I return home. Salome is twelve, and little Tabitha just turned seven."

His focus turned to his figurines. He picked up one of a gorgeous young woman gently cradling her swollen belly.

"Anah…" I whispered. "She's very pretty."

He reached for another one, a younger girl, braiding her hair.

"Salome…" He fingered the intricate braid. "She always gets so upset when I leave…"

"And little Tabitha…" He picked a figure of a small girl, leaning over to pick up a flower.

"She's sweet," my voice caught on the words. "I almost had a little sister. But she died, along with my mother in child birth. She'd be nearly eight now if she had lived…"

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

Neither of us spoke for a moment. The forum was now teeming with people. I had been talking to Aaron for a lot longer than I realized. When I was with him, it seemed like time just slipped away.

A young woman with vibrant red hair approached Aaron's stall. She carefully examined the tiny figures.

"Ooh, Marcella, come look at these!" she exclaimed, motioning to plump woman looking longingly at the honey cake stall.

"What is it, Rufilla?" She did not try to mask the annoyance in her voice. However, her tone abruptly changed as soon as her eyes fell on the figurines. "Wow, these are beautiful—Rufilla, look at this one!"

She picked up the resemblance of the pregnant Anah.

"And look at this!" Rufilla responded, pointing to the bust of the emperor Titus. "Quintus would like that!" she giggled.

I smiled at Aaron. "Looks like you're getting some good business…"

He shrugged. "We'll see if they actually buy anything. I usually get a lot of lookers."

Marcella and Rufilla turned out to be generous buyers. They bought two busts—Titus and Nero, three woman—one of which was Anah, and three more from the Roman gods collection—Neptune, Venus, and Juno.

As they left, showing off their purchases, I picked up the tiny figure modeled after me.

"You can have it if you'd like," Aaron told me.

"How much does it cost?" I asked.

"For you, nothing at all."

I would not accept it gratis. "Well in that case, I don't think I want it after all," I said, reluctantly placing it back, grinning slyly.

"How about we compromise then? Half price?" he bartered.

"Well…I suppose it's only fair. How much?"

He named his price, and I pulled out my pouch and handed him the money.

"I'd better get back home," I said regretfully, taking his hand in mine.

"Will you be back tomorrow?" he asked hopefully.

"Without a doubt." I grinned broadly in spite of myself.

I practically skipped home, grasping the figurine tightly in my hand. Was this what if felt like to be in love?


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter VII_

"Aaron!" I exclaimed, picking up yet another figurine modeled after myself. "You must stop making me! Not everyone wants a mini Iulia!"

He grinned, glancing at the rows and rows of Iulia figurines. They ranged from serious, simple positions to humorous, obviously planned poses. Over the past month, he had come up with a new one almost every day.

"You're my favourite model," he said, lightly brushing my hair behind my ear, then pecking me quickly on the cheek.

I only rolled my eyes. "Hadassah has given me dried meat and dates for lunch…and has packed extra as always." Hadassah had grown accustomed to my daily trips to the _forum, _and was quite determined not to let me forget about lunch. Skipping a meal was a sin in her book. "Would you like some?"

"Only what you don't eat." His usual response.

The afternoon passed quickly, and we talked late into the evening. I glanced around; the sun was setting around us. I realized most of the people had cleared out of the _forum_. Slowly I helped Aaron pack his things, as I did most evenings.

I was about to say goodbye when Aaron spoke instead. "Will you help me carry my things back to my apartment?"

I was shocked first. Never before had he invited me to his home. But I nodded, picking up a box and following.

We arrived at the apartment building shortly. As most apartment buildings, it was run down and dilapidated. As we entered, I was greeted by the overwhelming odor of sweat and urine. I had to breathe through my mouth to keep from gagging. He led me up the back, crumbling stair case. His flat was on the top floor, and though there were still underlying unpleasant odors, they were not as strong. The room was sparse, barely looked lived in. A sleeping mat lay folded neatly in the corner with a threadbare blanket draped over it. There was a wobbly table in the corner and a few shelves lining the cracked walls, but other than that, there were no other furnishings.

"Sorry, it's not much, but its all I could afford," Aaron mumbled. It made me suddenly appreciate my commodious _villa _much more than I ever had before.

Aaron roughly placed the box he was carrying on the floor. It shocked me; never had I seen him treat his delicate work with such disrespect.

"Aren't you going to put it away?"

"Later." he whispered. "It will keep."

He voice was rough, edged with pain. I was about to ask him what was wrong, but he abruptly closed the space between us.

He kissed me hard. Never had he kissed me like this before. His kisses were usually soft and gentle. Never this forceful, this urgent. I clung to him gasping for breath. He pulled away, a pained expression crossing his face.

"Aaron," I moaned, pulling my arms tighter around his neck. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, Iulia," he whispered, holding my face between his hands. He brought his face close to mine once again. "I meant to tell you sooner, but I couldn't bring myself to…"

"Tell me what?" my voice was barely audible.

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

I stopped breathing. No. No! My voice came out in panicked rush. "I thought you were staying the summer!"

"I planned to, but I've recently found a cheap merchant ship that sets sail tomorrow," he tried to explain.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" My legs wobbled beneath me and the blood rushed to my head. I could barely control myself. _It can't be true, _I tried to convince myself. But it was no use to contradict the inevitable.

He stared at the floor, unable to catch my gaze. "I truly wanted to, but I couldn't make myself. I didn't want to lose you, and it was selfish of me. I'm so sorry Iulia, love. I love you so much, Iulia. I want you to know that."

I couldn't be angry at him, despite how much I wanted to. Because I loved him too. I loved Aaron ben Mordecai, and now he leaving me.

I didn't speak, just groped for him, crushing my lips to his. His arms slipped tightly around my waist. Hot tears streamed down my face as I continued to kiss him. I never wanted him to let go.

I asked the question that I had been avoiding, the one I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer to. "Will you be coming back?"

"Of course I will!" he exclaimed, as though my question had been daft. "Iulia, you are my life now—though I very much wish to see my family again, every moment I'm away from you will be agony."

Though his words gave me solace, they also brought on a fresh batch of pain. I knew my life would go back to its miserable nothingness with him. But he promised to come back; a promise that would give me a reason to wake and function each morning. "How long until you come back?"

His voice was nonchalant as he answered. "Three months, give or take. Depends on the weather."

I let out an incomprehensible shriek. Three months was longer than the entire time I had known him.

"It will go quickly—I promise," Aaron tried to reason with me. "I'll be back before you know it."

_Maybe it will for you, _I thought bitterly. He would be traveling the world, spending time with his beloved family, while I would be despondently living my lame excuse for a life, alone, without even Marcus to turn to.

We stood in silence for a moment; the only sound was my sniffling as I dejectedly wiped away my tears.

"Come with me," he whispered, taking my hand in his, and with the other, pulling the thin blanket from the sleeping mat.

Confused, I followed as he led me up the last stretch of stairs to the roof of the building. It was lined with wooden beams and only covered in plaster; I was sure I would fall straight through. But Aaron was confident as he nimbly walked across the roof, avoiding the weak spots and following the grid of the wooden beams. I followed his path, frightened that any moment it might cave in.

"Have you ever fallen through?" I asked weakly.

Aaron only laughed. "Does it look like it?"

I looked around the roof. Though it was cracked and crumbling, I could see no visible holes, at least not ones big enough for a grown man to have fallen though.

We finally stopped in the middle, the place where the biggest wooden stretched across.

"The strongest part," he told me as he unfolded the blanket and spread it across the spot.

He sat down, opening his legs and beckoning me to join him. I hesitantly arranged myself in his lap. Despite what he had told me, I was still leery about falling through. There was a first time for everything.

Aaron immediately sensed my fear. "Iulia, _mi carrissime, _I come out here all the time. I promise you will be fine."

I allowed myself to relax a bit, leaning into his broad shoulder.

"I can't believe you're leaving." My words came in a strained whispered, tears hanging threateningly in my throat.

He didn't say anything, just hugged me tighter to his chest and rested his lips in my hair. After a moment he spoke, "Look at the stars."

For the first time, I lifted my head to the heavens. The velvet black sky was magnificently clear with millions of shimmering diamonds scattered in every direction. It was beautiful, and as I my eyes feasted on the glorious sight, I felt a sense a peace, a calming sensation. Maybe everything would turn out all right. Just maybe.

We didn't speak, just looked. It was more significant than any words could mean right now. Wrapped in each other's arms, each other's love, covered by the blanket of stars, I drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Morning came too soon. The golden crown of the sun peaking over the distant horizon woke us at dawn. Silently, I followed Aaron across the roof, void of fear this time, back into the tiny apartment.

Wordlessly, he packed his sleeping mat, his blanket, and his few articles of clothing into a leather knapsack. The room was not empty apart from the two boxes of figurines.

He picked them up and handed them to me.

I balanced the two boxes in my arms. They weren't very heavy. "Why are you giving them to me?"

"I can't take them with me; they are much too delicate. So I was hoping you'd look after then for me. When you miss me, you can take them out and remember. They will be my promise to you, my promise that I _will _back."

I cried then, hot tears streaming down my face. Aaron took the boxes from me and placed them on the ground. Then he took me in his arms, holding me tightly against him, kissing the tears away until my sobbing ceased.

I walked with him down to the docks, holding the boxes of figurines securely in my arms, the sun now rising steadily in the distance.

The docks were already busy, despite the early hour. Sailors and slaves with brawny arms and dirty loin clothes loaded the ships.

"Well, this one's mine," said Aaron, motioning toward one of the smaller ships. It had a faded white sail with wording stitched into the coarse material. The _Dolphina. _

He kissed me then, briefly, but passionately. The taste of his lips lingered on mine. A new batch of tears began to pour down my face as I watched him board the ship.

Soon afterward, the ship left port, catching the strong morning wind. I watched until the ship was only a speck on the horizon, barely distinguishable from a far out seagull, until it was gone…

* * *

Latin meaning and connections:

Poorer Roman citizens lived in apartments or flats often above shops. Entire families would share one room.

These apartments were known as i_nsulae_, meaning "island houses". They were often three or more floors high. As the higher floors were only made of wood, and supported on wooden beams, there was always a serious risk of fire and collapse…Not really the ideal living conditions :)

_villa_-house

_mi carrissime_—my dearest

_dolphina_-dolphin


End file.
